


Deep Six

by felisblanco



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-05
Updated: 2005-11-05
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: A surprise at sea.  Quite insane surprise.





	Deep Six

**Author's Note:**

> Finally I managed to finish something. This is the insano!Spike story I promised my mysterious benefactor almost 2 months ago. Yeah, I'm not exactly FedEx when it comes to writing.
> 
> Takes place after Buffy s6. Big huge thank you to [](http://bayouskye.livejournal.com/profile)[bayouskye](http://bayouskye.livejournal.com/) for the beta and to everyone who helped me with the nautical terms. This is written for a friend, you know who you are even if I don't. lol

"This better be important." The Captain put his glasses on the dresser and cast a last longing glance at the book he’d been reading that now lay discarded on the small table by his comfy chair.  
  
"Sir.” The first mate looked troubled. “We have a problem, sir"

He sighed. "Well, spit it out."

The forty year old looked almost childish in his embarrassment. "Thing is, sir, we seem to have a stowaway."

The Captain sharpened his stare. "Don't be ridiculous, man. It's been more than a month since we left land."

"I know, sir. It seems he's been hiding in the hull, behind the last container.” He paused as the Captain hurriedly threw on his jacket and cap. “I wouldn't have even thought to look behind there if I hadn't heard him...” he swallowed, “… sobbing."

The Captain slammed the door shut behind him and stalked ahead. "If this is a joke it’s not funny.” They hurried through long corridors and down narrow stairs. “It's well below habitable temperature down there, and besides I checked our stock yesterday, no food is missing."

"As far as I can see he seems to have been living on rats." The first mate had been hurrying after the Captain and almost slammed into his back as he stopped short.

"Good God. Are you serious?” He shuddered and resumed walking, increasing his pace. “Who is he? Some native hoping to get to the land of the free?"

"No, sir. Actually, he seems to be English."

By now they had ventured into the deepest part of the ship’s hull. It was indeed cold down there, not much above the freezing point. In addition it was dark and damp and just the thought of someone staying there for over a month was completely out of the question. There were hardly any lights this far in and the flickering of dying bulbs magnified the coldness of the place. The Captain didn't really know what to think. The whole idea was so ridiculous, but then again, his second in command wasn't a man known for practical jokes or humor of any kind really.

The first thing he noticed was the putrid stench of decay, growing stronger and stronger as he came further in, making his eyes water and his throat clench. The next thing that he noticed was the low keening sound. If he hadn't been listening for it, it would probably have escaped his attention, drowned in the rumble of engines. It chilled him to the bone; it was more than anything... inhuman. By now he thought he was prepared for what they would find but when he turned the corner a short gasp escaped his lips.

Huddled in the shadows, surrounded by rotting rat-corpses, was a man. More of a corpse himself though. The poor thing was rocking back and forth, arms around his knees, face buried in the gritty denim of his jeans. Through the grime coating him, a glint of almost translucent skin could be seen. The hair was unruly and bleached at the ends. He was wearing a t-shirt, or what was left of it. It was ripped in several places, exposing more white skin, cut and bruised.

"Go get a blanket. Now!” the Captain ordered, unable to take his eyes off the hunched figure. It was impossible. He stared in disbelieve, resisting the urge to rub his eyes like a child. No one could survive under these conditions. No one. He didn't quite know what to do. The man didn't seem to register their presence at all. In fact he seemed to be completely locked in his own world, mumbling and crying.  
  
At last the blankets arrived and the Captain reached out his hand to touch the bruised shoulder gently. The man moved so fast that the Captain tumbled forward, his hand landing among the decaying rats. Revolted he shrunk back and leapt to his feet. The stranger was standing with his back pressed to the wall, trembling violently, piercing blue eyes staring at him.

"No! Don't touch me! I will not be touched by you."

The accent was obviously English, high class, he'd say. The Captain couldn't help wondering what kind of mishap this young man had gotten himself into; wondering if his family knew where he was. He was young enough to still have parents alive. Looked about the same age as his kids and the thought made his heart ache.

"No one’s gonna hurt you, son.” The Captain lifted his hands, backing slowly. “We just want to help. Please."

The man blinked, then straightened up and shook his head slowly. "Oh, I am beyond all help, sir. I'm in Hell, you see. But thank you for offering." He turned away and faced the wall. “The darkness is fair in its sweet misery. Cold is the summer, dark is the day. Where have you gone, my Angel? Who will save me now?” His shoulders slumped and he shook with sobs.

“You can’t stay down here. We need to get you clean and warm. Do you hear me? Son?”

The stranger shook his head. “Not your son. Not your boy. No one’s boy. Daddy left and all I got were whips of anger, screams of pain.” He started trembling even harder. “Where did he go? My Sire, my father, my world.” His eyes were devastating in their grief as he turned to look at the horrified men staring at him. “Why did he leave me?”

The Captain took a step closer, ignoring the crunching sound of the dead rodents underneath his feet. “Did he die? Your father?”

The hysterical giggle was chilling. “Die? _Die?!_ ” The man slammed his fist into the wall. “He can **never** die!”

“All right. Calm down.”

“My daddy’s dead. Dead and cold. And still he lives. Young and old. Monster of evil, Angel of good.” He tilted his head slightly. “What am I? What am _I_?”

This was going nowhere. Obviously they needed a different approach. “You, my friend, are filthy. What will your daddy think about that?”

The man blinked then frowned. “Oh, he will not like that. Daddy likes his boy clean.”

There was something very disturbing about that sentence.

“Right then. Time for your bath. Come along now.”

The Captain turned and walked away. It only took a few moments and he could hear the man shuffling behind him. The handful of crewmembers stepped back and allowed them to pass, stunned to silence

As they reached the common showers the Captain signaled the crewmen to stay out and he closed the door behind them. In the bright light the stowaway looked even worse. His face was grey and grimy which only made his eyes shine bluer. They were bright but disturbingly wide. His cheeks were hollowed, making his cheekbones seem sharp as knives. His chest was covered in bloody scratches and his ribs could easily be counted under the stretched skin. His jeans were ripped, showing bruised and bloodied knees. The only things that seemed intact were his boots, which despite being covered in dirt were obviously made to withstand extreme treatment.

“All right then. What’s your name? At least tell me that.”

“Willie, William, Will, Spike. All are one and I am nothing.”

“All right then… William. There are the showers. There will be some clothes for you when you’re done. Will you be all right by yourself or do you want me to help you?”

“A gentleman bathes alone. A sinner shares his nudity. I am neither, I am both. I am nothing.”

Okay. A nut. “I’ll just be over here then. You bathe… shower, whatever.”

“The water flows like tears from heaven. Tears of angels. My Angel. Holy tears.” He paused, frowning. “Not holy water, is it?”

Even better. A _religious_ nut. “No, just… regular.”

“Sure?” The man, William, reached out for the faucets but drew back again in uncertainty.

“I can try blessing it for you if…?”

The short laughter was almost like a bark. “Oh, you won’t get rid off me that easily.”

“Huh? Well, I’ll go see about those clothes.” The Captain turned as the man stripped off his t-shirt but not quite soon enough. As he hurried away he felt nauseous for the first time in his 30 years at sea.

\---------

Twenty minutes later the Captain stood in William’s cabin, watching their newest crewmember with concerned interest. William looked lost where he sat perched on the chair by the small table, wearing a way too big t-shirt and baggy pants, staring down at the steaming plate in front of him. The Captain sat down on the low bunk, frowning. It might not be French gourmet cooking but to a guy who’d been living off rats for a month it should look quite delicious. Meat and potatoes with gravy. Yummy.

“Something wrong?”

“There is no blood. This meal has no life.”

Ah. “Yeah, well. Harry has a tendency to overcook… just about everything he gets his hands on really. You should taste his vegetable stew. No need for utensils. A straw and you’re good to go.”

“I don’t like straws.” William picked up the fork and poked the meat. “Chains and shackles. No Passions.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sharing a cherry soda with a pretty girl. Eyes locking over the table…”

William tilted his head and gave him a puzzled look. “I have absolutely no bloody idea what you’re talking about.”

The Captain laughed. “Well, that makes two of us.”

William stared at him for a long time and then his face broke out in the most wonderful smile. “I’m completely insane, aren’t I?” He laughed and shook his head in amusement. “Dru would be so happy.”

“Dru? Is that your girlfriend?”

William closed his eyes. “Hair as black as raven wings. Lips of blood, whitest skin. Moon and stars in her eyes. Heaven rests between her thighs.” He shivered.

“I guess so.” The Captain chuckled. “Sounds like quite a girl. You been together long?”

William looked away. “Since the day was turned to night. Life to death. Wrong turned right.”

He sighed. “You really like rhymes, don’t you?”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but…”

“Yeah, well. We both know that’s a load of bull.”

William nodded slowly and then he bowed his head. “He bruised my skin and broke my bones but the words of venom from his lips… they hurt the most.”

The Captain looked at him in worried sympathy. “Who was that, William? Who hurt you like that?”

“The Devil sliced with claws of love, the Angel cut with words of hate. Wounds upon wounds but in the end the scars upon the soul remained.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

William looked up at him and smiled sadly. “Oh I’ve been lost for a century and more.” He closed his eyes. “Wonder if he’ll find me now. Soulmates.” He started laughing, a desperate sound that cut the Captain to his heart.

He stood up from the low bunk. “Think it’s time I left you to go to sleep now. Think you could use some real rest. We’ll be in Boston on Thursday. A couple of days of sun and salty air should…”

William stood up so fast his chair toppled over. The look on his face was of pure terror. “No! I can not! I can not! Do not make me!”

“What?”

He turned away, emaciated arms hugging his thin body. “’And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world…’”

“’…will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.’ Shakespeare. _Romeo and Juliet_.” The Captain pinched his nose. All this crazy talk was giving him a headache. “You don’t like the sun? I’d think after all this time in the dark…”

“No! No sun! No sun. Burns. It burns!” William cradled his head in his arms and sank to the floor. “And I should. I should burn for all the things I’ve done. God laughs in my ear, laughs at my soul. Please!” He looked up in anguish. “Help me!”

“All right, all right.” The Captain stood up and carefully approached him. “I’ll help you. But first you need to rest, ok?”

William blinked, tears glittering in his eyes. “Rest? Rest for the wicked?”

“Yes. Rest.” The Captain helped him to his feet and then lowered him down on the bunk, pulling the covers over the trembling body.

William closed his eyes and started crying softly. His sobs followed the Captain out into the hall and disturbed his dreams when he finally managed to doze off.

\-----------------

The next few days the crew got used to seeing William walking the corridors, muttering in a voice that changed as rabidly as his moods. From quiet and broken to hysterical happiness with short intervals of moments when he seemed almost normal. Only a few times did he get violent, but never out of anger. No, they all agreed that whatever had brought it on he lashed out in sudden fear, blind panic that usually ended with him huddled on the floor, curling up in as small a target as possible as if that way he could hide from the terrors of his mind.

There seemed to be turmoil of emotions and memories constantly twirling in William’s head, whether real or not they couldn’t tell but the bits and pieces they could gather from his bemused ramblings were painting them a picture so horrid they never could bear to listen for long, let alone dwell upon their meaning.

His father had obviously been a cruel and twisted man - oh yes, very twisted indeed, the perverted bastard - and still William seemed to love him more than anything. A love so desperate and painful it hurt to listen to his cries as he begged his forgiveness and to please, please take him back. It all mixed up with ramblings about angels and demons and condemned souls and women with strange names and even stranger behavior if any of what he said could be taken seriously. Which they weren’t sure they should since he didn’t really seem able to tell the difference between reality and nightmares.

He never ventured out on deck until well after sunset but then he spent hours staring down into the black ocean, making the crew worry that he might let himself fall overboard. And silently, with guilt-ridden shame, they wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to a soul so tormented.

They were due to set port in Boston the next day when the first mate knocked on the Captain’s door, informing him that William had locked himself in his cabin and refused to come out. From within they could hear ramblings of death and demons, hell and damnation, and the rhythmic sound of a head banging against the wall.

The Captain silently thanked God that they would soon have this burden off their hands, even if he couldn’t help worrying what would become of this man with his sad blue eyes and gentle but desperate voice. He really hoped the poor thing would find some peace if only in the arms of drugs and doctors. Taking a deep breath he knocked firmly on the locked door before quietly inserting the master key and turning it.

William had been sitting on the floor up against the wall but when the door opened he scrambled onto the bunk and pulled the covers over his head. The obscured form shook with quiet sobbing.

“William? What’s wrong?” Apart from the obvious lunacy, he added silently.

The trembling stopped and a head of unruly curls appeared from underneath the covers. William’s eyes were wide with grief and madness. Despite the cook’s best efforts they hadn’t managed to put any meat on the sickly body and the shadows under his eyes looked even darker now, his cheeks sunken in.

“I can feel Him. Angry. Fishes, fishes all around. I am lost and he can’t be found.” He pulled the covers back over him and wailed.

The Captain took a step closer, palms turned up in a soothing gesture. “We’ll reach land in just a few hours, William, and then…“

The swift fling of the covers startled him and he backed off as William’s dark eyes glared at him.

“He’s not there but _here_! He’s here!” He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and rocked back and forth. “Dark, dark in the cold sea. Locked in a mind with no key. If he can’t get up, if he can’t see, how will he ever rescue me?”

“I don’t understand. You think he’s drowned? Why would you…?”

William looked up, angry. “Not drowned! Water can’t hurt him.” His eyes widened. “This isn’t the Red Sea, is it? Cos Moses…”

Not that again. “No, it’s the Atlantic Ocean. Remember? We’re about to dock in Boston. America? Ring a bell?”

William blinked then shook his head. “Oh, no. Not for me. It will never ring for me.” He smoothed the covers and hitched his breath. “I’m going to live forever.”

“Of course you are.” The Captain stepped closer, relieved that the madness seemed to have subsided for now. “And it’s ‘toll’, you know.” he added as an afterthought.

William frowned. “What?”

“For whom the bell tolls. Not rings.”

William looked at him. “You know I’m mad, right? I’m not supposed to make sense.”

The Captain couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe not, but that’s no excuse to butcher the classics.”

William grinned and for a moment there was that glint in his eye that always made the Captain want to step back, why he was not sure.

“I bet he would have tasted sweet though.”

William froze, suddenly seeming to realise what he’d said. Whatever had been hiding behind those blue eyes was replaced by wild panic and he shuffled back on the bunk, shaking his head in denial.

“No, no. Nononononono. I didn’t say that. I didn’t. I didn’t!”

The Captain silently cursed whoever had convinced this young man that his feelings toward other men was so wrong he deserved damnation. “Sshh, calm down. It’s all right.”

“No! He will never take me back. Never! Not me. Not me. Oh God, help me! Help me!” He was yelling, sharp nails clawing at his chest, ripping the wide t-shirt and cutting deep welts into his skin.

“William, please. Calm down.” The Captain tried to grab William by the wrists before he hurt himself further but he was pushed away.

William stared at him, tears springing to his eyes. “I’m a monster, a devil. Can’t you see? Can’t you see?!”

The Captain shook his head. “No, I’m sure…”

For years after he would try to rationalize what happened but however he turned and tumbled it in his head the facts wouldn’t yield to reason.

The young man looked to all the world frail and weak but the hands that grabbed the Captain’s arms were stronger than those of any man he’d ever met before. Even with his outmost efforts he couldn’t do more than faintly struggle as the pretty blue eyes turned golden and ridges formed on the handsome face, lips drawing back to reveal teeth sharper than knives. He gasped in shock, his heart hammering in his chest. The Devil seemed almost sad as it looked down at him, flaring its nostrils.

“Bless me Father for I will sin.”

The sharp pain took him by such surprise that when it finally registered it had already turned to exquisite pleasure and he felt his will to fight back dwindle and disperse. Fingers were running over his skin, touching places he was sure had been covered with clothes, shocking him with their gentleness. He hadn’t even known you could feel such pleasure. Not there, not like this. He felt like he was floating, his head light as his cock grew heavy and struggled to rise. His thoughts and reason were drained from him as the blood left his body.

He wasn’t sure when the cool lips let go off his throat and moved down, covering him with light and sticky kisses. The air smelled metallic and musky. This was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Not with a woman, not with anyone. When his cock was swallowed into a cool and wet mouth he thought he could see stars sparkling on the ceiling. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All he could do was lay there and hope it would never end.

He’d never believed those tales of the Devil as the tempter which his grandmother had repeatedly told him as a toddler, but now… Now he knew they were true. But if this was what going to Hell felt like he doubted he would turn away and choose Heaven even if God himself opened the gates for him.

With a weak gasp he let himself be breached and slowly filled up. There was pain but he didn’t really notice. Behind closed eyelids he watched the world turn bright red and then sparkles of white fireworks shot across the sky.

Hell was a beautiful place.

Dazed the Captain slowly opened his eyes to stare up into the face of the Devil. Tears were running down the distorted features, the drops landing on his chest with a plopping sound that echoed in the silence. The crunching of bones as the planes shifted, changing the face from that of a demon to the beauty of an angel was far less terrifying than the quiet sound of those tears falling.

“You…” The Captain stopped, too tired and bewildered for words or thoughts of any kind.

“Now do you see? You can’t save me. Only an angel can.”

The kiss was surprisingly sweet and despite his weakness he found himself responding, sucking the tongue into his mouth, tasting the blood. His blood. Then he was lying alone on the bed, listening to the engines rumbling and the waves slapping against ship.

“No. Please, don’t leave me. Please…” His voice trailed off as he slowly lost consciousness.

By the time the Captain was discovered, cold and naked, his ripped clothes spread across the room, there was no trace of William anywhere. The crew believed he had thrown himself in the ocean, presumably out of guilt. It was public opinion that he had gotten off too lightly. The Captain’s obvious distraught strengthened that belief and for months they kept their vigil eyes on him, afraid he might do something drastic.

But if truth be told, he didn’t seem so much to be traumatized as quietly grieving. And waiting. Forever staring out over the sea and waiting for… something.

Whatever it was it never came.

fin

 


End file.
